


Of Dragons and Thieves

by TheProtobabe



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Breathplay, Dancing, Dragon tongue, Dragonborn (D&D), Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Half-Elf, Loss of Virginity, Lots of laughing and cute shit, Male Solo, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Roughness, Silliness in bed, Teeth, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, annoying sibling-like characters, he's a dragon ok, like mild possessiveness, love stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-16 02:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheProtobabe/pseuds/TheProtobabe
Summary: A collection of stories following the romance of Jasttor and Tally--a bronze dragonborn paladin and a half-elf rogue who fall in love over the course of a D&D campaign.





	1. Song and Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Tally belongs to Telana, Jasttor is mine.
> 
> I'm the DM in a big campaign with a lot of friends. Jasttor is an NPC that Tally the PC befriended, and it slowly became something more. I just love these two okay they're such good adorable kids.
> 
> Also, none of these were edited or corrected by a beta reader, so bear with me :P

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're at a dwarven inn and tavern havin' a grand ol' time. They get tipsy, they get a room... stuff happens.

He’s laughing louder than he thinks he ever has before, unused to the company of (real) friends but finding it to be something he wished he’d known far before this. Forgotten, just for tonight, was the sting of betrayal by Ashwing, the guilt of having to leave Tally behind, his duty that never seemed to sleep. 

Somewhere nearby, Medericus has struck up a lively tune on his strange instrument, joined by a dwarf with a fiddle, and the dwarves in the tavern are cheering and singing in their tongue. Jasttor only has a moment to chortle at the silliness of it all when an insistent hand grabs his arm and tugs. Confused, he lets himself get pulled off of the barstool (he’s tottering on his feet, but he’s  _ not  _ drunk, damn it all) only to turn and see Tally’s grinning expression staring up at him. Her face is flushed with the alcohol burning through her system (her ears were red, too, something Jasttor had noticed before and found adorable) and she’s saying something, but he can’t understand her over the din of the tavern. 

It’s only when she pulls him to the middle of the cleared floor that he understands what she’s doing, and normally he’d be far too nervous to dance, but tonight…

The ale burns through his system like a pleasant campfire as he pulls her to him with a huge grin, remembering how much he liked the way she felt against him earlier. And she’s looking up at him, pleased that he’s going along with this, and he doesn’t know a lot about dancing but he remembers the way he used to dance in celebration in coming of age rites back home, and his feet are moving across the wooden floor in a quick rhythm--

He can hardly hear the cheering from the others in the tavern as they sweep across the floor together, a little clumsy, but they laugh and fall together easily. Tally fits here so perfectly, and he wonders why they hadn’t done this before. She lets out a little screeching giggle as he takes her by the waist and lifts her to him, his momentum still carrying him in a semicircle as her hands automatically go to his shoulders. The dragonborn ducks so the top of his head presses to hers, and…  _ oh _ , that scent again. Like… leather, and salt, and… 

Sweat glistens and the cords of her neck stand out above her collar, and Jasttor finds himself drawn to that sight. Her breathless laughter above him is suddenly all he can hear, the softness of her hair and her chest moving with each breath she takes. He’s just aware of her, suddenly, of the space between them (or lack thereof) and just, her presence, and he finds himself wondering if he’d be this happy now if he hadn’t met her.

_ ‘You mean a lot to me. A  _ lot  _ a lot.’ _

The recent memory comes to the front of his mind and Jasttor finds himself thinking much the same about her. Of course, he cared about all of them--Medericus, Kitrick, even the little spider, but… It was the thought of  _ Tally  _ in danger that made his gut knot with worry. It was  _ her  _ lilting voice that brightened his days while traveling. It was  _ Tally  _ he trusted with his life, if it came down to it. 

His eyes catch the window, seeing that night had completely fallen, and as the song ends and they grin at each other, panting, he jerks his head towards the door.

“Think we ought to get a little fresh air?” he asks, Draconic accent thick with the absence of his usual careful articulation of Common speech.

“Sure!” she answers with an eager grin that reaches up to her eye, and she takes his arm in hers, leading the way out the door. She keeps looking over his shoulder and meeting his eye with that same carefree smile that puts knots in his stomach.

The air is clear after the spring rain, clouds cleared away to reveal billions of tiny stars clustering together in the sky. The sight makes Tally’s breath catch and, before she can stop herself, she pulls back her eyepatch and just stares in wonder. She’s seen the stars, of course, but this is different. It’s like someone took a massive dagger and tore a hole in the sky just to show them the spectacular treasures hidden inside.

“Wow,” she says softly, leaning in against Jasttor’s shoulder. It’s not exactly cold out and the ale has her feeling toasty enough on her own, but  _ gods _ he’s so warm. She can’t help but nuzzle in close, revelling in just the sensation of just being this close. “This is amazing.”

The fresh night air serves to clear his head somewhat from the tipsy haze clouding his mind. It’s quieter, calmer out here, but he can still feel the leftover grin from all the dancing inside. 

“It is,” he agrees, his arm automatically going to hold her closer. The clouds from the brief rain earlier have cleared away, and the stars are bright. It’s a perfect night, and… 

He looks down at her while she’s still got that faraway look in her eye. Hesitantly, he asks, “Tally, do you want to… we can still hear the music from out here. We could have another dance, just between us.”

It takes a moment for the words to register and, when she looks up to meet his gaze, there’s a heat in her chest that’s most definitely  _ not _ the ale. Just the two of them? It’s almost too much to hope for, but she sure as hell isn’t going to let the chance slip away.

“I’d love to,” she says, stepping back, anticipating the same sort of awkward, quick steps as inside. But the music inside has slowed, and, when she looks over her shoulder, she could  _ swear _ Medericus had winked at her. Tally’s ears grow hot, but she doesn’t dare say anything. Not yet.

“I think…” He grabs her hand almost delicately, weighing it thoughtfully in one of his larger palms. “I think I want to dance with you like this.” He pulls her closer to him, just a little, tilting his head down at her.

What is he doing? Really, he doesn’t… this isn’t something he would do with a friend. Would he? Jasttor blinks, the ale still flowing through him like a warm river. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was seeing her, looking up at him with her face all red, and under the stars, and thinking she was beautiful, because he was a little drunk. ( _ Not _ drunk. Damn it.)

But… he finds that he doesn’t care, really. He just wants this, with her, right now, and he’s aware that this is moving into territory that’s past what they had before, and...

The music is calm, the tavern has quieted. The night air is clean and smells like rain (just how he likes it) and the two of them make simple circles, and he is just  _ looking  _ at her. 

There’s something in the way his eyes meet hers, something that just… sends Tally’s restraint to the wind. She slips her fingers out of his and reaches up to touch his cheek gently before wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. If she’s reading this wrong, seeing things where there’s nothing, so be it.

It’s just impossible to be this close and hold back. Even if she could find the willpower to keep her distance, she doesn’t  _ want _ to. To hell with it all, she’s going to take this moment for all he’ll give her and hold it close. She  _ needs _ this, needs to lean her head in close and just… feel everything. For just this moment, she’s safe, warm, where nothing is wrong, and even the next day seems ages away.

This moment, she thinks, is all she needs.

Jasttor gives her a confused look when she takes her hand away only to jump a little when she touches his face, completely caught off-guard. He settles a moment later, deciding that he definitely likes the gentle touch of her fingers, enough that it puts one of those bright expressions on his face (like every time she entered a room)  

He leans down a little, having to hunch because of the height difference but not minding at all. She seems to like being this close. It’s not something he’s used to--being the only dragonborn among a lot of human friends tends to mean less physical contact, but he really likes it. Especially when it’s Tally. 

Something catches his eye and he glances upwards. The grin on his face gets a little bigger and he breaks apart a little from her, only to catch her shoulders and turn her to see.

“Tally, look! The stars, they’re…” He doesn’t need to complete the sentence, because racing across the sky in big, arcing streaks are several shooting stars. They move surprisingly fast--fleeting, beautiful. Even they, however, can’t draw his gaze for long and he looks down at her again. He wants her closer so he pulls her to him, his hand resting on her waist. He realizes exactly how special this moment is and he finds himself closing his eyes to think of a wish.

Tally knows she needs to think of a wish too, but the only thing she can focus on is how close he is, his hands on her waist, just the fact that he’s with her for this moment feels like enough. If there was even one thing she’d ask, it’d be that she could spend more moments like this with him.

Because even with all the times she’s had a little too much ale or danced in taverns or watched the stars, with him, it’s different. With him, she’s not alone, a stranger in a strange place or a forgotten face in the crowd. She’s not entirely sure she  _ belongs, _ either, but she feels less like a piece to the wrong puzzle. Like maybe right here is where she fits.

She’s not sure how long they’ve been standing together - it feels like forever and, at the same time just  _ not enough _ \- but, after a little while she tilts her head backwards to look up at Jasttor and ask, “So, did you make a wish?”

“Hmm?” He hums at her, registering the question a few seconds later than when he heard it. “Oh, yes… though, I thought you weren’t supposed to say it aloud?” he asks. “I could be wrong. That’s what I’ve heard from…” He pauses to take a deep breath and yawn, showing rows of sharp teeth. “...From the humans I’ve been around…”

Though the weather is crisp, he’s starting to feel warm and cozy with her tucked up against him. She’s holding in all his body heat and it just feels so comfortable.

“I think we should…” Another yawn. “Perhaps we should go upstairs. I think I am a little tired…”

Tally yawns, too - they’re contagious, dammit - and smiles up at him sleepily. “Yeah, it’s getting late. Probably. I don’t know, but sleep sounds good right now.”

She breaks away and takes his hand - why does that feel so natural, holding his hand? She’s only just started doing that, but it just feels… right. This whole night does. They bumble along through the tavern, still kind of tipsy, but she never lets go of his hand.

“Come on, sleepyhead, this way,” she urges, leading him up the stairs and into her room. “Almost there.”

Her hip bumps him and they laugh up the stairs--he’s vaguely aware of eyes watching them, but the room is blurry, and a nice, soft bed sounds  _ really  _ good at the moment. He lets himself be led into a room where the door shuts behind them. 

The click of the lock snaps and it startles him slightly, enough to wake him up just a bit, and he realizes: this isn’t his room. 

Tally’s belongings, though few, are scattered about in the humble dwarven room. He sees her armor and bow in one corner, and then his eyes follow her as she heads in, having let go of his hand.

They’re alone.

* * *

 

It’s not until the door clicks shut behind them that Jasttor realizes that they are alone. Here. In her room. They can hear the music from downstairs, faintly, but the loudest sound right now is the thudding of his own heart in his chest, and the sound of their breathing.

They are alone, and her scent is driving him crazy.

She smells like… like leather, and autumn leaves, and fresh ale, and… gods, every time she’d thrown her head back and laughed, he could smell the distinct scent of the sweat at her neck and collar. 

His eyes trail down her throat now, lip curling over his teeth. The atmosphere between them has been electric all night, but  _ this…  _ this is like--like a rip current, yanking him out to sea where he is helpless to fight her pull. The only way out is to let it take him where it will and pray he’ll survive.

“Tally,” he growls thickly, his head still clouded from the alcohol. She still has that patch over her eye, and while he wouldn’t have minded it before, now he knows he could see both of them looking up at him like when they embraced. He feels himself get warmer in response to that mental image. How had he not known he wanted her before this? Had he really been so  _ stupid  _ as to ignore the signals his body had been sending when he was around her? The way her skin warmed if he ever spoke to her, the way she would giggle, breathless and flushed, when he said something she found funny, the way her mouth moved when she would practice Draconic over and over until she got the accent right--

He has her backed up into the center of her room, hot breath puffing on her face as he looms over her. She’s so small, but so  _ strong…  _ maybe not like he is, but all her stories of fighting undead, and her skill with a bow have him feeling impressed and pleased and  _ proud  _ to be associated with her.

He’s rumbling now, somewhere deep in his chest. He can’t help it. He wants her, so, so badly, and he hopes, he  _ prays _ , that she reciprocates. “Tally… _ geou wux majak doutan ekess ve? _ ” He slips into the language so easily, forgetting himself. One hand goes to her waist, his muzzle nosing under one side of her jaw. “I want you, Tally,” he says slowly, this time in accented Common. “Do  _ you  _ want--May I?”

She hesitates, just a moment before answering, in breathy Draconic,  _ “Axun, petranas. Si mi douta.” _ I am yours.

It sounds so good when she speaks in Draconic, he thinks, as he steps forward until she has to sit at the edge of her bed. He does what he’d been wanting to do all night, and he tilts his head to press his teeth at the side of her neck. A shudder goes through her body and she leans into him as he flicks his tongue out to test her reaction; satisfied, he does it again, an approving hum rumbling through him. Tally tastes better than he thought she would… like salt and just  _ her _ , simple and perfect. She makes a little sound this time and he freezes. Then, deliberately, he repeats the action to get another noise from her, and from her mouth comes the sweetest little moan. Oh, he  _ likes  _ that. He wants to figure out how to make her do it again.

He takes a moment to fumble at the buttons and clasps at her shirt, wanting to see and taste more of her, when she starts to reach up and help him.

“Don’t,” he tells her, putting his hands over hers to push them away. Jasttor is panting slightly, jaws parted just enough to show teeth, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown wide. Tally licks her lips and obeys.

“All right.”

His mind is heady and swimming with arousal and alcohol as he finishes undoing the clasps, and he spreads his hands just beneath the collar’s opening to push two layers of clothing from her shoulders. She’s so tiny compared to him; her shoulders are slender and delicate beneath his huge hands, and her skin is so soft--much, much softer than he’d imagined when his mind would wander to such places. Her skin is light, with those little spots-- _ freckles _ , if he recalls--speckling her collarbones and shoulders. There are a few light scars here that he traces with his claw, mapping the expanse of her skin, everything that’s just… Tally.

She squirms under his scrutiny; he brings a knee up between hers to steady himself, and her head falls to the side with a little sigh. She’s flushed from the top of her breast band to face, all the way up to her hairline, and Jasttor doesn’t think she’s ever been more beautiful. 

_ ‘She is so beautiful. She is strong, and smart, and  _ good _ , and I…’ _

Her visible eye opens when she realizes he hasn’t moved for a few moments and she sees him staring at her with a little frown. Tally reaches up and touch the side of his neck, right where the frill meets his jawline. Jasttor leans into her hand, eyes closing.

“Is everything all right?” she asks him. He hesitates, sighing as her fingers follow the pattern of green stripes at his jaw.

“I’ve… never done this before,” he admits, hazy gaze locking onto hers in their close vicinity. “But I… I want to--” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” she interrupts, and takes his face in both her hands. “You were doing pretty good before. Just…” She moves her hands down to the bottom hem of his shirt and skims her hands along his stomach. The muscles beneath surprisingly smooth scales tighten as he shivers beneath her touch, his hands squeezing at her waist hard enough for his claws to leave imprints. “...Just do what feels good,” she finishes with a knowing smile at his response.

He tilts his head at her for just a moment before reaching behind her head and untying the knot keeping her eyepatch on, pulling it away and placing it carefully on the nightstand. He turns back, watching her blink in adjustment before both her green eyes focus on him. In a move he’d seen humans do, he places both his hands on either side of her neck and pulls her into a kiss.

Dragonborn, as a rule, really don’t kiss like this for obvious reasons, but Jasttor makes up for what he can’t do with teeth and tongue. Carefully (she’s so damned soft it’s ridiculous) his teeth catch her lower lip, and the muffled sound she makes in response make him growl. His tongue flicks out to taste her, and when she relaxes to him and opens her mouth, he pushes further inside.

Her hands clutch at him, his shoulders, his neck, his frills. She’s moaning each time his long tongue caresses the textured roof of her mouth, and she tastes like… summer rain, fresh and clean. Tally tugs insistently at his shirt and he parts from her to impatiently pull it off, avoiding his horns with practiced ease. In that moment, he catches the look on her face--pupils wide, cheeks flushed, lips parted and dark. It’s an expression that he’d never imagined seeing there before; having this private knowledge of her makes something like triumph swell up in his chest.

“Can I…” She reaches a hand out and looks up at him questioningly. He grabs her hand and pulls it to his chest; he’s almost hot to the touch, and smooth. There are a few nicks and scars that managed to get past the naturally protective armor--something there that looks like a spear wound, another that looks like the slash of a sword. Tally’s face looks thoughtful as she explores him, first trailing her hands over collarbones where the strong cords of his neck come down, then sweeping across the eel-like stripes at his neck and shoulders, and then moving her hand down to follow the line down the center of his chest to his lower abdomen. Jasttor thinks he might lose his mind at the sensations she’s causing in him, just at her gentle touch. Tally looks up, realizing that he’s breathing hard, and her lips quirk into a smirk. 

“Jasttor? You doing oka--”

She squeaks when both his hands scoop under her full hips to scoot her closer to him as he kneels further on the bed, moving her like she was made of nothing.

“ _ Belhalir _ ,” he snarls, and dives at her neck.

Tally can only let out a choked sound as his jaws close around her throat, just under her chin; he’s gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt, but she knows she’ll have some toothy marks in the morning. The dragonborn releases enough to sweep his tongue across her skin, hot and insistent, and Tally can feel more than hear the thrumming growl. His hand reaches behind her, unlaces her breast band and tosses it aside, and his claws automatically begin a methodical exploration on the exposed skin.

When he lifts his head, she’s panting, hands touching anywhere she can reach. He grunts as her flat little teeth bite at his flesh as well, like she wants to make marks there, too. Jasttor moves forward over her and she’s made to lay back, hands following the rippling movement of his shoulder muscles. He’s just so  _ big _ , looming over her like this, both hands supporting his weight on either side of her head. He looks her in the eyes, his head swimming with his movement, before dipping back down to continue nipping at her neck. 

Tally tilts her head to allow him access, but tugs insistently at one of his hands. He leans his weight onto the opposite elbow and lets her guide his hand to her breast, sighing when the pad of his scaly thumb brushes over the nipple.

“That feels really good,” she says in a faraway voice. He lifts his head to watch her face as he does it again. “Jasttor,” she breathes. He could hear her say his name like that forever and be content. 

He follows the movement of his hand down, his less inhibited mind urging him to taste every part of her skin. She yelps when his teeth and tongue replace his thumb, and she automatically reaches to grip the base of his horn.

He’s far too pleased with himself for getting her to react this way and he wants to make her do it again, and again, and again--he keeps playing at the tightening bud of her nipple while his free hand touches her skin everywhere he can, the flat of his hot palm eventually ending up laying at her lower belly. Her muscles jump when he caresses the spot right above the waistband of her leggings.

“I want--can I see you?” he murmurs.

“‘Wanna see you, too,” she replies with a lopsided smile, but she helps him by unfastening the leather. She takes his hand when he hesitates and makes his fingers dip under the fabric to the bony prominence of her hip before moving lower. “Touch me, please,” she whispers, and releases his hand to pull his face towards her to kiss his mouth and jaw. He can’t help but notice that she lingers on the scars longer.

He does as she asks, loosening her clothing enough to fit his hand. His fingers slide down the slight curve of her lower belly before meeting soft curls.

“Mind your claws,” she says, humor and arousal chasing each other in her tone. He nuzzles her hair in reassurance before exploring further, seeking the spot between her thighs. He’s rewarded with a low, uninhibited moan when the pads of his fingers find slick heat; his nostrils flare when the strong scent of her meets them. He thinks the analogy of a rip current is accurate when she shudders in his grasp and he moves to undress her because he needs to see her, he needs to touch, to taste,  _ drown  _ in her--

The leggings are flung away and she yelps when he grazes his teeth at the smooth, fleshy part of her inner thigh, wanting nothing but to continue giving in to the need to taste and touch. Her hands  are trembling when she touches the top of his head, like she’s not sure if she should stop him or urge him on. His tongue follows the pattern his teeth make like a hot salve. He’s fascinated with her, and she seems to like it because she’s muttering his name in a quiet prayer somewhere above him.

His mouth comes closer to her center and he has this, this  _ urge _ , to just reach out and--

“Gods, Jasttor, whatever you’re going to do,  _ please  _ just do it,” she begs. Coming out of his too-intent focus, he can see that she’s looking down at him desperately, her chest heaving. He watches her face while nudging his muzzle further up her thigh, his hot breath caressing the skin there. Tally’s entire body shudders and goes taut. He  _ likes  _ having this power over her, he realizes, and tucks that away in the back of his mind, because right now he just… wants her.

He flicks his tongue out, just to see what happens; what he doesn’t expect is for her to let out a snarl of her own and grab at his head, catching a frill and tugging him forward to do it again.

“ _ Fuck! _ K-keep, ah, keep doing that,” she hisses. Oh, she  _ never  _ swears like that with him around. He adores being the one to pull them out of her.

He’s not too sure what he’s doing, but her words bolster his confidence, and he drags those curses from her with slow, wide strokes of his tongue. Her taste and scent overcome his senses and he doesn’t care; she’s a little bit of salt and sweat and sweetness and he might never want to stop. The cant of her hips is interrupted when she jolts (when did she start moving? He couldn’t remember) and, following the signs her body makes, he goes back to the spot that caused it. He can hear her voice breaking with a mantra of  _ ‘don’t stop’ _ s and  _ ‘please’ _ s and he obeys, working her into a frenzy until her fingers dig into the flesh at the base of both his horns and she practically  _ screams  _ above him. Her body shudders, almost violently at first, but then lessens with each pass of his tongue over that spot again, and then he feels her hand weakly push him away.

“S-stop, I’m,  _ hah _ , it’s too sensitive,” she pants. He can hear the smile in her voice before he sees it as he climbs back over her, his arms automatically going around her and holding her to him. Their faces are close, and his vision is still a little blurry, but her face all flushed and satisfied and happy is, quite possibly, the best thing he’s ever laid eyes on. He’s aroused, almost painfully so, and Tally seems to know this since her eyes flick down for a second before settling on his face again.

“I seem to recall my saying that I wanted to see  _ you  _ too,” she teases, and bites her lip before her hand reaches down to tease his waistband like he’d done to her earlier. His expression becomes one of both apprehension and excitement, and she gives him an impish grin when she props herself up on an elbow to look down at him.

“Well, come on then, help me out,” she says, and it’s almost funny how quickly his hands move to undo his belt. He stands up to step out of his trousers, nearly falling over (Tally’s laughing at him nearby) when his claws snag the leather. She’s standing now, still biting her lip as she playfully shoves at him; he follows her lead and sits down so she’s a head or so taller than him. Her hand immediately goes to touch his length, but she pauses before getting there. 

“Is it all right if I…” she says, trailing off. He gives her a quick nod and lets out a shaky breath at her touch. His nerves are on fire, his mind is spinning…

She straddles his thighs and his hands automatically go to her hips as she keeps touching him, kissing him with soft lips all down the scales of his neck, his collar, his shoulder. She presses a lingering kiss right over his heart, which starts thudding hard enough that he’s sure she can feel it.

“Tally. I, I want to... “ He swallows noisily. She’s looking at him, just  _ him _ , her hair falls into her eyes which are dark with want. “I need…”

She smiles and has mercy; she moves over him, hand still holding him in place. 

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” he whispers. He tucks his nose into her neck and helps brace her as she lowers down onto him. She bites her lip as she slowly eases down, adjusting herself to him and murmuring soft words of encouragement as he trembles with her movement, humid breath puffing on her skin. Eventually she gets as far down as their position allows with a little sigh, and pulls back to look at his face, both hands placed tenderly at each side of his jaw.

“How’s this? You good?” she asks, breathless. Jasttor manages to focus, still reeling from the intensity of everything, but tilts his head down in a little nod. She kisses him on the nose. “I’m gonna move now, okay?”

He rumbles in vehement agreement as she does, using his shoulders as a lever. Jasttor learns the pace and movement quickly enough, his hands moving to her curvy hips to take a bit more control. Tally slowly lets him set the rhythm as he gains more confidence, and eventually she’s panting and clinging to him desperately as he takes over.

She feels so good, and the sensation of being inside her, of hearing her, being this close to her--it stokes a fire in his gut. He growls and shifts to stand, wanting more control, to let her let go while he pleasures her.

Much like her laughter downstairs when he’d lifted her in dance, she giggles now when he hefts her easily, claws digging into her full thighs. Her calves wrap around his waist as he presses her back against the wall, stabilizing her enough that he can enter her again from this angle. She lets out a long, low moan, throwing her head back when he’s seated fully inside, eyelids fluttering when he speaks in her ear.

“Tally… _ vethrasvim, _ look at me,” he murmurs thickly, and, like moving through a dream, she does as he asks. Glinting gold and green look up at him through fine eyelashes, her mouth dropping open as he moves inside her. His head pounds as he shifts his stance beneath her to get a better angle, and watches with rapt attention when she lets out a sharp cry.

“Oh, right--right there,” she manages to gasp out, and her head falls back again as the burning rhythm makes her lose herself. Her eyes are unfocused when he cups her face in a gesture that is surprisingly tender, and she lets him pull her forehead to his shoulder where he can hear every sound she makes. It’s only a short amount of time when her arms squeeze his broad shoulders, her knees pressing into his sides, and she tenses like a bowstring before shuddering with a guttural noise.

He grits his teeth as she tightens all around him, hyper aware of their proximity, of her every noise, of each individual scent on the air. He feels his gut clench, like something beginning to unravel like a loose thread, and he picks up the pace almost frantically before he lets out a long, gravelly moan. He grazes her neck with his teeth, moving enough that she can feel his hot breath panting in her ear, and he crushes her to him as he comes to climax.

They stay there, panting and just holding onto each other. She presses a lingering kiss to the side of his face (right over his two little scars) and sighs in contentment.

“Wow,” is all she says, and his breath rushes out in a laugh.

“Indeed,” he agrees, euphoria warming him with a faint buzz. “I’m… a little tired,” he admits, and she giggles.

“That does tend to happen after sex,” she says dryly, and they both laugh. She kisses his nose again. “Come on, take me to bed.”

Jasttor scoops her into his arms and, on slightly wobbly legs, walks over to the bed before falling backwards unceremoniously. Tally snorts and untangles herself from him, tugging at the sheets.

“Under the blankets you go,” she admonishes, grinning when he blinks up at her groggily. Tally shoves at him, struggling under the dead weight. “How are you so heavy, jeez,” she says. He peels an eye open to look over at her.

“It’s all the muscle,” he insists, and she bursts into giggles.

The two of them eventually make it under the covers together where he automatically throws an arm across her, dragging her to him like a comforting pillow. She feels warm and happy with him like this, and behind her, Jasttor buries his nose in her hair again. His mind isn’t putting together strings of words correctly, but he feels… content, here, with her in his arms.

The smell of a salty sea breeze and ozone washes over Tally, and as she falls into unconsciousness, she realizes that Jasttor feels like  _ home _ .

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bellhalir- "mine/possess"  
> vethrasvim- "my treasure"


	2. Elf Sibling, or Something Like That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ilweth is a prisoner, someone who previously tried to murder Jasttor, and now she ships him and Tally. Character development is weird.

“You could have just stayed there, you know,” the young elf said flatly, after a long bout of silence between them. Jasttor’s steps faltered, for moment so brief that it might not have even happened.

“No,” he sighed. “I could not have.” 

The conversation was one that hung heavy and silent between them, but Jasttor knew Ilweth couldn’t keep quiet about it forever. It seemed forever only lasted two days.

The…  _ development  _ between him and Tally was definitely not something he’d ever expected to happen. When he’d first met her, he hadn’t even thought much of her; a typical rogue, nimble, quick with her hands, a bit impulsive. It had been very obvious to him what she was, though it mattered little to Jasttor who needed skilled people for the rebellion. But Tally had a deep curiosity for the world around her, so much that she even plucked up the courage to ask him how to speak Draconic. It made sense, in retrospect, to learn the language, since their quest dealt a lot with dragonkind. 

What had surprised him was, well… he was a  _ paladin _ . A damn intimidating one, when the time called for it. And dragonborn, while respected, were also feared by other races. Not without merit; dragonborn were fierce in battle, and the natural ability to summon a destructive blast with a breath was jarring. And paladins were also seen as pious, or judgmental. 

Jasttor snorted, remembering the times he’d had to hammer the oaths into new recruits. Paladins were not meant to be feared by the masses. They were humble servants to the people and to their deity, there for protection from what truly mattered, and the petty problems were there for the land’s government officials to handle. You did not swing your sword at every civilian that jaywalked. 

But that behavior was common among paladins, and so he expected to always be approached with wariness or even outright hostility. And yet, Tally had had the courage to just… ask, rogue and all. But then her wary expression melted into something truly friendly and genuine, and Jasttor found that he greatly enjoyed speaking with her.

In fact, he’d even started talking about dragonborn history at length, and went over every possible conjugation of Draconic verbs, just to have a reason to keep her in his company. And every time she was away in Dunn’s Gate, he found himself missing her, and felt himself warm with joy every time he saw her face again. And then… that last night, they’d danced, and she’d been so close, and her gentle touch upstairs in her room when—

“Ugh. You  _ miss  _ her, stupid. You keep making that dumb face when you think about her,” Ilweth piped up, dragging Jasttor from his much more pleasant thoughts. He frowned and kept walking, choosing not to encourage this line of conversation. “Oh, come on, Jas. Why do you paladins have to deny yourselves of literally everything fun?” 

Jasttor stopped and whirled towards her, pupils shrinking slightly. “It was not just for  _ fun _ , Ilweth. I would appreciate if you did not speak of Tally as if… as if—” 

“As if she was some kind of fling?” Ilweth piped up, grinning devilishly when she felt static rolling off of the agitated bronze. “Oooh, man, you really  _ do  _ like the halfie! You’ve got to tell me what happened.” Jasttor’s expression went flat and he turned to continue walking with a huff. Ilweth whined behind him. “Oh come onnnn, I haven’t had girl talk in forever, I am dying here, Jas. Look, watch,” she said, and then promptly collapsed onto the ground.

“Ilweth, I swear by—”

“Yeah, yeah, you swear by Bahamut’s scaly testicles that you’re gonna murder me, just tell meeeee,” she pouted from the ground as he hovered over her with a grumpy expression.

“First of all, stop using such vulgar imagery when speaking about my patron deity,” he said dryly. “Second…” He grunted as he lifted her bodily off the ground, throwing her over a shoulder. “I do not need to tell you anything, petulant child.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst,” Ilweth groaned, struggling for only a moment before going as limp as possible, becoming dead weight for him to carry. Not that it mattered all that much to him anyway. “Also, I’m older than you, you dumb lizard.”

 


	3. Hart's Tongue is a Blessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasttor gets lonely for Tally. 
> 
> REAL lonely.

Finally, after weeks of being footsore, of getting rides with strangers who stared funnily at him, of putting up with Ilweth’s incessant chatter and insistence on prying into his personal life, Jasttor is  _ home _ . He drops his bag by the door wearily, too tired to put everything away at the moment.

The sight of his desk, the maps on the wall, his small collection of coral and starfish and sand dollars, his own bed… He lets out a long breath, as if he’d been holding it ever since he’d been gone. Gods, he’d missed his own room. 

He sits at the edge of his bed, immediately getting to work on doffing his armor. The heavy pauldrons are gone first, and then the gauntlets so he can roll the kinks from his shoulders. He starts on the smaller fastenings and buckles at the chest pieces and his belt. He is so used to the weight that he feels lighter than pegasus feathers without it.

It’s a somewhat long process, getting it all off, but there is some comfort and familiarity in this ritual that Jasttor likes. When it’s all gone and carefully put away, he flops back on the bed in a rare moment of relaxation.

So much has happened since he’d last left this place for Frostshore. Thinking about it seems like too much for his relaxed mind, but he is glad things had worked out the way they did, for the most part. Ilweth is safe in holding, he’s done what he needed to do, Tally sounds as though she is safe, and strong new Metalhearts recruits are going to join. Jasttor is satisfied with all he’s done--at least for the time being.

His mind wanders back to Tally, unable to have just a simple passing thought about her anymore. He starts to wonder how she’d like it here at the Metalhearts base, if she’d get along with all the people he knew, if she and her friends would be happy here in the dorms the guild put aside for newer members. His mind strays, briefly, to the image of her staying here with him in his room instead, and the thought processes in his head slow to a crawl.

Tally, tucked under his arm here in his bed, her soft breathing lulling him to sleep, her skin pressed against his, the scent of her hair lingering on his pillow...

The thoughts are immediate and invasive, and suddenly he is applying all his memories of her that night at the inn to places in his own room. Her face, all flushed and pretty as she looks up at him, but instead of standing in that dwarven inn, she’d be right over there next to  _ his  _ desk. Kissing her while she sat at the edge of  _ his  _ bed. Her back, pressed up against the wall of  _ his  _ room as they--

He realizes he’s growling a little under his breath and comes back to the present, shaking his head. Gods, that night with Tally really ruined him--for better or worse. Of course, like most everyone else, Jasttor would have the passing thought or sexual desire, but until  _ her  _ they were easily overlooked or forgotten. He’d just kept himself busy, channeled his energy into other things. Now, though… he was beginning to understand why some of the men kept a hefty stash of hart’s tongue on them.

It is difficult to stop the train of thought now that it’s started. If he closes his eyes, he can picture the way she looked beneath him, the way her lips felt pressed against his chest (right over his heart, like she knew what she was doing to him and wanted to feel it), the way she lingered over the two little scars on his face, the way the skin of her throat tasted between his teeth, the sounds she made when he touched her (that time she swore, not realizing she had, the pride he felt in making her feel so  _ good _ )--

He begins running his claws and fingertips across his own skin, remembering the way her hands felt across his stomach, his chest, his collarbones. If he doesn’t overthink it, it’s almost like she’s here. His trousers are getting tight and he starts to loosen the fastenings.

He remembers the way the morning light looked on her face, lighting her eyes and her hair (like emeralds and gold and fire, captivating, burning into memory), the pull of her muscles beneath soft skin as she walked across the room, the curve of her hip and thigh, the knowing look she gave before bending to grab her things from the floor…

His growling is getting louder as he remembers the very brief thought he’d had, when she did that, but instead of shoving it to the back of his mind he lets it go. Because, Nine Hells, he’d really wanted to grab her, bend her like that at edge of the bed, and have his way with her. It had been such a powerful thought then, and it is a powerful thought now. He frees his erection from his trousers, hands shaking a little as he touches himself.

He imagines her muffled squeak of surprise as he easily puts her where he wants her, hand splaying across her shoulders to keep her there, knee wedging between her thighs, hand going to her hip after squeezing at the tantalizing flesh of her rear. He imagines murmuring words of praise, of telling her what he wants--braver than he’d ever be in reality--the little yelp she might make at his first thrust inside, quick and deep right away. 

The growling is broken up by quiet, desperate panting as he strokes himself for some semblance of relief. They get faster as he imagines pulling her body back towards him, her back flush with his chest as he keeps up a fast pace, his nose at the crook of her neck and taking in the scent of her skin and sweat, listening to the little noises she might make (just like the ones she’d made into his shoulder, his claws tangled in her hair at the back of her head), and he imagines the long, low moan when he bites the spot between her neck and collar, the scent of her arousal strong as she comes to climax--

His strokes get fast and frantic and he finishes, the intensity of his orgasm knocking the wind out of him until he flops back, panting like he’s been running for miles. 

His first thought is that he’s never felt this good while pleasuring himself, and his second is wondering if it’s a bad thing that he’s thinking of Tally like this. Would she be offended…? 

And then a third thought occurs to him--has  _ she  _ thought about  _ him  _ like this, on nights when she has been alone? A rush of giddy heat coils in his belly and warms his chest, and he realizes he’s aroused all over again. 

_ ‘Damn this woman for doing this to me,’  _ he thinks half-seriously, stopping the hysterical laughter before he awakes anyone nearby at this hour. He gets up to get changed, legs feeling like jelly, and makes a mental note to buy hart’s tongue the next morning.

 


	4. Zhayerian Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasttor and Tally enjoy each other after not seeing one another for a month of dangerous travel. Sex and stuff happens.

He can’t stop  _ looking  _ at her.

It’s exactly the same as before--just the two of them, enjoying each other and talking for hours, and he loves the way she goes on and on, the way she laughs. Except... he notices the way her hand goes up to tuck her hair behind a delicately pointed ear, the way she smiles in that secret and sad way when she looks out at the shore (and now he knows  _ why _ , and it makes his heart ache to see her like that), the way her face brightens when he even so much as squeezes her hand. 

That’s another thing--his presence makes her so happy in ways Jasttor can’t even understand, and it’s  _ electrifying _ . He loves her smile, and somehow it’s his presence that puts it there. He can’t help but feel a swell of pride and warmth each and every time it lights her face.

But there are other things, too. Like the flush that creeps up so easily on her cheeks that makes her look so endearing. The way she sometimes bites her lip when she’s in thought that makes him want to kiss her and steal her breath away like when they were alone by the shore. (He’d never shown anyone else that spot, but for some reason it didn’t bother him at all that she’d been there with him.) The scent of her hair when it was rustled by the sea breeze. The brightness of her visible eye in the sunlight, and how flecks of gold shone through her eyelashes. (He still hadn’t asked why she hid one of them, maybe that could be the next thing they talked about, now that they had the time to talk.) 

Jasttor spends a little time with a few of the New Dawn, as they’d been calling themselves, though they seem to share glances with each other after he has to ask them to repeat some of the things they’re saying. As if they know Tally is the center of his focus (and also because she really likes to touch him, which is doing nothing good for his wandering thoughts).

Darkness falls, and it’s a little early after the two of them talk over dinner in the hall, but she seems to slow down enough that he catches onto her exhaustion.

“I should take you back to your room,” he tells her guiltily. “I have kept you all day. You must be very tired...”

Tally yawns and shakes her head. “No, no, I really… I  _ liked  _ staying with you,” she says, cheeks darkening slightly as they were prone to do. “I  _ am  _ pretty sleepy, though,” she admits, giving him a sheepish grin before yawning again. Jasttor smiles and gets up, taking her hand as they stand. She’s even adorable when she’s exhausted, but he’s not sure how she’d take that so he doesn’t say it aloud.

“Come on, then. We will see each other tomorrow,” he says. “I will lead you back to the others for now.”

Again, Tally shakes her head, her face going a curious shade of red. “I, um. Well, I’m tired, but…” She bites her lip as Jasttor tilts his head. “I don’t want to leave you yet.” He furrows his brow in confusion and she gives him a look. “Jasttor, I want to  _ stay with you, _ ” she says slowly, until comprehension dawns on his features. “But only if that’s okay,” Tally clarifies quickly before he can answer.

He takes a deep breath to try and slow his racing heart. It doesn’t work. 

They’re still in the company of the few left over in the guild hall, so he lowers his head to answer quietly. “If you stay with me, I...must admit I would want to do more than just sleep,” he warns. “I think it would be wiser if you stayed in your own room for the night.”

A slow, impish smile spread across her face and she tugs at one of the jagged horns on his chin, pulling him close enough to bring her lips by his jaw. “Oh, but I’m  _ very  _ unwise,” she murmurs. A tremor rolls through his body, originating from where her soft breath touches his face, and he visibly takes a moment to come back to his senses.

Oh, the pictures dancing in his head right about now. He feels almost ashamed, but the smirk on her face makes him think she knows what she’s doing to him. Tally’s  _ teasing  _ him and he loves it.

“Then I would be honored to have you,” he says.

The two of them make their way back to the barracks, the streets mostly empty for the night. He can’t stop touching her, whether it’s just to hold her hand or brush her hair from her face. Jasttor just  _ wants  _ her, needs to have some kind of physical contact because the anticipation is killing him. He’s grateful that his room is at the end of the building, making easier for them to slip in unnoticed. 

As soon as the door closes, she pounces like a cat, reaching to tug him down by the back of the neck for a kiss. He tilts his head, tongue teasing the seam of her lips so they part enough for him to taste the inside of her mouth. His hands go automatically to her hips and yank her forward to be flush with his body; she makes a small noise of surprise and he rumbles in a quiet growl. Her small fingers find their way under his shirt to touch his bare abdomen and chest, nails scraping across the smooth scales and it has him parting from their kiss with a shuddering breath. He goes from her hip to her thigh, pulling it so she wraps a calf around his. 

He kisses her again in a way that has her making little needy sounds in her throat before parting again. “Tally. I…” He swallows, his eyes dark as he focuses on her. “I want you.  _ Please _ .”

She gives him a broad smile, touching his face where frill meets jawline. “I am yours,  _ varna’mael _ .”

The words unlock something in him and he picks her up like she’s nothing, hands gripping her thighs so he can take her to his bed. She laughs breathlessly between kisses she plants on his face, his jaw, down his neck where she’d breathed earlier to tease him, but now she’s using lips and tongue--

He sits her at the edge of the bed and she impatiently tugs at the hem of his shirt. He parts from her only long enough to pull it over his head and toss it aside, fingers fumbling as he reaches for the buckles and stays of her light armor. Her thighs are still squeezing at his sides and her mouth finds its way further down his chest, the softer flesh of his stomach, the jut of his hip showing above his waistband.

He finally manages to peel away a layer of her clothing, but it's not enough--he's trembling with anticipation and a more than a little anxiety, and she must be able to sense it because she presses a slower, sweeter kiss to his chest, right near the heart. She gives him an eager smile and starts to help him out, crossing her arms and pulling her undershirt off. He watches the stretch of her muscles with fascination.

Her shirt is thrown somewhere along with his, and he leans in to breathe along the line of her now-exposed neck and shoulder. Tally shudders and clings to him, tilting her head to give him better access. He drags his tongue across the side of her neck, letting the taste and scent of her skin flood his senses.

Again, she shudders, clinging to him as if she can't support her own weight. Jasttor backs away for a moment, puzzled at the strong reaction, to look at her face. She's flushed beautifully, panting, her eyes opening to meet his.

"Keep going," she says, words slurred like someone waking from a deep sleep.

He doesn't need to be told twice. Feeling pride at being able to make her feel this good overtakes him and he enthusiastically complies. His hands wander a little more confidently, undoing the last of what's covering the top half of her body while his hot breath and tongue find their way further down her neck.

Her skin feels cool against his palms, impossibly soft and smooth. Jasttor puts a hand behind her back and lays her down slowly in his bed, moving over her and situating himself so one knee wedges between her thighs. He takes a moment to look at her beneath him, her hair fanned out, skin rosy, eyes half-closed. She takes every fantasy he's had of her like this and shatters it--it's so much  _ better  _ than he imagined, in every way.

She's real, she's  _ here  _ with him, willing and giving herself to him like this. The thought only fuels the strong mix of feelings churning inside him as he leans to graze his teeth over her skin, one hand wandering down to her lower belly.

As soon as even a hint of his teeth touch her, Tally shudders, and a sound like a whine slips out in a way that makes Jasttor think it was completely involuntary. He freezes when the realization hits him-- _ she wants him to bite her _ . He'd been so concerned that he'd hurt her, before, but apparently she hadn't been lying when she said she'd liked it.

Remembering that she'd also liked when he'd touched her breasts, his hand immediately goes there as his jaw closes gently just beneath her chin, teeth pressing into the skin. He growls as her nails dig into his back near the shoulder blades and she writhes beneath him.

"Jasttor," she gasps. He tightens his grip, just a little, and growls. The sound is quiet, but he knows she can feel it.

His hand goes from her breast back to her waistband, this time slipping just beneath to touch her. He knows the way just a little better this time, remembers that there was a certain way to touch her that made her react strongly, and it takes him a few tries but he figures it out. She jerks beneath him, almost like she's trying to wriggle away, but he growls again and she stills her hips, panting. He continues the rhythm, acutely aware of her every sound (all those little whining sounds and moans that start getting more urgent), every twitch, until her back arches and she cries out. 

Jasttor releases his grip on her and runs a hot tongue over the slight indents his teeth have made as if to try and soothe them, murmuring soft words of praise as she rides out the tail end of her orgasm.

A broad, lazy smile stretches across Tally's face and she looks up into his eyes, reaching a hand to cradle the side of his face. He leans into the touch, unable to stop his giddy grin.

"I think I could listen to you like that and never tire of it," he says, watching her smile get wider before her eyes dart away in shyness.

"Mmm, well. I can't just lay back and let you have  _ all  _ the fun," she teases, kissing his snout. Her hand reaches down to tug at his waistband. "C'mon, off with these and let me up."

Jasttor isn't body shy, but he's very aware of her gaze on him as he undresses the rest of the way, kicking his pants off while she wiggles out of her own. Tally pushes at the center of his chest to lead him back down to the bed, this time on his back while she climbs over him. Her hair tickles him a little as she situates herself.

She takes her time, soft lips kissing his face and jaw, trailing openmouthed down his neck and collarbones, spending extra time touching and exploring the parts of him that are so different from her--the scarred frill where it meets his jaw, the soft part of his throat where his longer muzzle connects, the place where his scales transition into a lighter color and the green stripes at his shoulders.

He feels himself shaking, coming apart in her gentle hands, and he doesn't realize he's stammering a steady stream of nonsense until she pauses to laugh softly.

"Shh," she chides, trailing her hand from the center of his chest downward, over smooth scales and muscle before tracing one finger across the underside of his erection. He chokes out something that might be her name, though it's mostly unintelligible, clenching his teeth when she wraps her hand around him. She's tilting her head curiously like a cat, watching him react. Jasttor reaches for her but she leans up just out of his grasp, grinning mischievously.

"Is there something you want?" she teases. He focuses on her, blinking through the haze of his mind as he props himself up on his elbows to see her better.

"Tally, are you--"  He hisses when she strokes him again. She lets out a giggle and he sees her biting her lip, waiting. "You're... ah," he gasps, head falling back when she moves her hand again. "I can't--I--" She keeps on, agonizingly slow. He can't speak, he can't breathe, he can't  _ think _ . She twists her hand just so, and his eyes flick open to lock onto her hungrily. Quick as lightning, he snatches her wrist and pulls her toward him, the other arm reaching around her and flipping them back so she's below him.

She's looking up at him, grinning as she takes his face in her hands.

"Tally, I--I need you, I..." Jasttor is shaking hard, barely able to keep himself propped up--his pupils have gone so wide that there's only the rim of green showing at the edges.

"I'm yours," she whispers sincerely.

He shifts and presses at her entrance before slowly filling her, watching her face as she'd done with him. She bites her lip again, brows pushing together to create a tiny crease between them. Jasttor finds that he likes this position as her ankles lock together at his lower back--he can see all of her like this, every shift in expression, the way she leans her head back to expose her throat. He takes her swiftly, a nonstop growl slipping between his teeth, and twines his fingers with hers and holds her hand by her head.

"Tally," he says, calling her back. "Look at me."

She does what he says, her eyes working to focus as he picks up the pace. Her eyes are a sliver of green, widening when he pushes himself deep, pausing a moment just to feel her, before pulling back and doing it again. Tally cries out on the first one, but is muffled when he leans down to slip his tongue between her lips and swallow all her sounds.

He keeps it up, each movement faster, harder, until she shudders violently beneath him. Jasttor parts from her mouth and she gasps in air greedily, her hand squeezing his painfully. He feels her flutter all around him and a few erratic movement later he follows her, letting out staggered moans. He leans forward to gently lick away the sweat at her neck before he slips out of her, collapsing at her side.

They lay beside each other, meeting eyes and laughing breathlessly. Tally puts a hand over his chest to feel his racing heart, cuddling close. He grins before settling into his bed as he usually does, on his back with his head propped up slightly. He rubs small circles at her back, resting his nose in her hair and breathing in her scent.

"You're here," he says again, still a little in disbelief that he's holding her in his own bed, in what has become his home.

"Mhmm..." she hums, content but tired, and he chuckles.

"Sleep,  _ vethrasvim _ . We have all the time we need now."

When Tally wakes, he’s already left the bed, but on the nightstand, there is a letter held down by Jasttor’s amulet:

_ Tally, _

_ I am training some of the recruits today. I am sorry for leaving you, but I could not bring myself to wake you when you looked so peaceful. I will find you later on and we can have a little more time to talk, if you would like. _

_ I would like for you to have the amulet for safekeeping. The person who gave it to me told me once that if ever I doubted the world or my purpose, I should find someone to trust and give the amulet to them. That person was you, that time in Dunn’s Gate, and so it belongs to you now. Take care of it for me, and take care of yourself, too.  _

_ -Jasttor _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vethrasvim- "my treasure"  
> varna'mael- "safe/beloved" basically the person she feels the safest with


	5. Truly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally say the L word and adorable shit ensues.

Her lips part to allow Jasttor to kiss her in his own way, giving him access to her mouth as his tongue caresses hers. He’s careful, so careful with her, knowing she’s still weak and short of breath, and he makes sure to break away and give her space for air even though he wants far more of her. 

“I love you,” she breathes again as soon as they part, and Jasttor nuzzles  her hair, wrapping his arms around her. Her body relaxes and molds into him, something he noticed she had a tendency to do--another tiny habit he adored about her.

“And I love  _ you _ , Tally,” he says, unable to keep the grin off of his face. He still can’t quite believe this is happening, that he could feel so happy because of someone else. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying, that she has this power over him.

But he trusts her implicitly. The amulet around her neck is proof of that.

She uses the hand resting on his chest to support herself, still weak and recovering from Cayman’s attack, as she leans up to press warm lips all along his neck and throat. He hums contentedly, letting his hands wander down to hold her hips. He finds the bottom hem of her shirt and searches upward to rub at the bare skin of her side. Jasttor loves the feel of her, deceptively soft compared to him, and she’s always so responsive to his touch.

Sure enough, she makes a little sound of approval as she reaches his jaw, kissing each of his distinct green markings there. The warmth he feels in his chest is kindled by her sounds and the presence of her body on his until he feels like he has a bonfire roaring in his belly; he needs to have her,  _ more  _ of her, and the feeling only grows as she kisses him. He wants to coax more of those sounds from her, make her feel amazing because he just  _ loves  _ her and wants to show her in the ways he knows how.

He sits up straighter, growling low in her ear as his hands move to the undersides of her thighs. He tugs her forward easily, making her yip in surprise as she’s suddenly straddling his hips, and flushes when she realizes she can feel how hard he already is between them. He leans forward to nip at her neck while simultaneously grabbing handfuls of her curvy backside so she can’t move away, rumbling deep in his chest.

“Jasttor!” she gasps, surprised at the bold move. Normally he’s a little unsure of himself and eager to please, so when he pulls back to give her a heated look, she feels a white-hot spike of need coursing through her faster than any other time they’ve been intimate like this.

She catches on quickly, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and fumbling to get it off. He helps her for a quick second before his hand goes back to its previous position while she lays a trail of hot kisses down his bare chest; he holds her still with his hands and rolls his hips into her, the friction only heightening the urgency between them. 

He’s very careful to make sure she doesn’t expend too much energy, holding onto her so she doesn’t need to support her own weight too much. When her hand reaches down to brazenly grab at him over clothing, he takes a sharp, hissing breath before gripping her wrist to stop her.

“Wait, I want to start with  _ you  _ first,” he says. She gives him a mischievous grin and goes for him again with the other hand, directly defying him. A moan slips from between his teeth, eyelids fluttering closed as she finds his length beneath the fabric and teases. Tally watches Jasttor as he starts panting in sync with the rhythm she’s creating with the palm of her hand, his head falling back as he loses himself in feeling. His hands automatically fall to her hips, squeezing her now and then, and she just watches him in fascination. 

He’s so different from her, from the fact that he’s covered in smooth scales, to the reptilian features of his face, to the claws on his fingers and toes. But she knows all of it, from the pattern of the bigger scales of his chest to the shape of the green, eel-like stripes across his broad shoulders and neck, and she loves it. She loves all of it, all of  _ him _ , and even though they are so different, she finds every bit of him beautiful.

Jasttor’s muscles tense and he comes back to himself, grabbing both her wrists and pulling them away so he can calm down. The normally thin slits of his pupils are blown wide as he looks at her, looking as though he wants nothing more than to devour her.

“Not yet, I want this to last,” he says, voice dipped low and leaning towards his natural Draconic accent. He puts her wrists together and grabs both with one hand, easily fitting them and holding them down so she can’t touch him. Tally makes a noise of confusion before he braces her at her lower back with the other hand, leaning in to kiss her--deeply, slowly, taking his time to taste her and caress at every part of her mouth with his tongue. Kissing her like this lets him get the unique taste and scent of her, like salt and summer and leather; Tally’s body relaxes, almost like his kiss melts her.

He parts to let her catch her breath, stopping only to lick the extra wetness from her bottom lip. Jasttor brings his hand from her back to tilt her chin up, taking in the sight of her all flushed and breathless.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmurs. He lets go of her wrists so both of his own hands are free, brushing her hair from her face as she bites her lip.

“Maybe we should take this to your room,” she suggests with a lopsided smile. He returns it, but his grin is touched by something a little wicked.

“Mm, perhaps. But first…” Jasttor shifts and moves her off of him, and she stands before him with a confused expression. “Turn around,” he tells her, but she doesn’t immediately do as he says.

“What are you doing?” she asks curiously, seeing intent in his gaze and unsure of what it means. She squeaks in surprise when he insistently turns her by the hips so she’s facing away, before he tugs her into his lap again. 

“I want to  _ hear  _ you out here first, where there is no one to listen but me,” he growls in her ear from behind her. His hand snakes beneath her shirt again, claws skirting her belly and ribcage until he finds one of her breasts and squeezes.

Tally gasps, arching into his hand as he rolls her nipple between his thumb and fingers. He adjusts her so she’s seated firmly against him, her back against his chest; she can feel his arousal pressing into her flesh and she lets out a little moan. His breath is hot on her skin as he lowers his head to her neck. “Just like that. You are so beautiful,  _ vethitov _ .” His tongue makes a scorching trail, teeth grazing the skin along her neck and jawline.

“Jasttor,” she pants, before she can’t speak anymore. “I love you. I love you.”

He rumbles, the sound coming from deep in his chest. “ _ S’itovwux _ . I love you, my treasure.” He skirts his claws of his other hand along her belly before slipping his fingers under her waistband. Tally’s breath hitches, knowing his intentions, and her fingers fumble at the front of her trousers to make it easier for him to fit his hand. Jasttor chuckles near her ear, his voice husky and dark. “You are very eager,” he observes aloud, and slows his hand--even going so far as to retract it back up to her stomach.

Tally catches herself before the whining noise can escape, but she still makes a little sound of frustration. He’s learning quickly what makes her tick, and apparently it’s making him confident enough to tease her. Admittedly, it’s…  _ very  _ sexy, but she’s eager for release now that he’s wound her up.

“ _ Jasttorrr _ ,” she complains, but he only chuckles in response.

“Tell me what you want,” he says softly, his hand splaying across her belly. He’s warm against her skin, like a soothing balm that relaxes and excites her all at once. “I would very much like to hear you say it.” His voice is gentle, but earnest, and Tally feels her face heat up with sudden shyness.

“I…” She hesitates, unsure of her words. This is a new development that she likes, but Tally is unused to feeling so  _ desired  _ like this. 

“Please?” He whispers near her ear, and nips at her skin. She shudders and closes her eyes.

“I-I just… need you,” she says, and grabs his hand. “I want your touch,  _ varna’mael _ . Please, I--I’m yours. I am yours,” Tally murmurs, tugging his fingers closer to her waistband again. Above her, Jasttor answers with a short growl, and he tangles his calf with hers to drape her leg over his and open her to him. He reaches down to slip his fingers over her slick heat, and she lets out a needy moan in response.

“ _ You are mine _ ,” he responds, and opens his jaws enough to set his teeth against her skin, but does not bite down.

Tally is lost in sensation--she feels the point of every tooth, his hot breath puffing at the space between neck and shoulder, one of his hands working at her nipple while the other rubs her clit in a rhythm. Instead of fighting it, she just holds on, leaning back into him and grabbing at the side of his neck with one hand to encourage him.

The combination of his warm body, the low rumble in his chest, and his attentiveness to her every sound and movement has her gasping and moaning, the sounds getting more high-pitched and frantic--he nips at her before whispering in her ear, hand following the movement of her hips as she subconsciously shows him the rhythm she likes.

“ _ Look _ at you, Tally,  _ gods  _ you are breathtaking like this. I love you. I love hearing you,” he murmurs, just a steady stream of praise and sweet words that coax more sounds from her, heightening her pleasure until she can’t even think anymore. Eventually his words get less complex, until all he’s saying is “you are mine” over and over, but the combination of it all tips her over the edge.

She stiffens, the movement of her body going erratic as she nears climax; Jasttor, sensing this, continues his pace but sets his jaws around her flesh and bites down.

He is careful not to obstruct her airway, but the simultaneous pain and pleasure from his teeth sinking into her get her to climax  _ hard _ . His name tumbles from her lips as she cries out, back arching against him enough that he has to hold her still to keep from hurting her with his teeth. 

Tally shudders with each smaller wave of pleasure that hits her until it ebbs away, leaving her limp and content in his arms. She feels him release her from his jaws, his tongue laving over the toothy marks like a hot balm.

The smile that spreads across her face is a bit goofy and lopsided. “Wow,” she breathes eventually. He chuckles above her.

“You should have seen it from my point of view,” he remarks, and nuzzles her hair. “I love you, Tally.”

Her smile warms into something like adoration. “I love you too, Jasttor.” 

They take a few moments together, listening to the waves crash against the shore. Once he’s sure she’s caught her breath, he leans down to nip at her neck again. “Mm, I hope you do not think I am finished with you,” he says, and she tips her head back to look at him upside-down. Jasttor grins down at her, loving the way the sun brightens her eyes. “I do believe you suggested heading back to my room…”

She gives him a broad smile in response. “Yeah, I did. Come on, before we catch shit from all the guys at the barracks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> itov- "love"  
> vethitov- "my love"  
> s'itovwux- "I love you"


	6. barely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Tumblr:  
> Hesitant Kiss - The type of kiss where their lips touch a brush against each other’s a few times, breath fanning across each other’s faces as one waits for the other to make a move.

One thing Jasttor has learned while being romantically involved with her is that Tally really, _really_ likes to tease him.

A whisper, the lightest touch in a way that was casually intimate, biting her lip while looking at him with _that expression_ across a room–she’s so _good_ at it. If he had the capacity to blush, he would have done so many times at the way she smirks at him and makes some kind of meaningful comment in front of other guild members. 

It really makes him want to figure out how to do it back.

He gets his chance sooner than he expects when he catches her training with the new dagger Helmi had made for her from Cayman’s horn. The thing was very convenient, always returning to her belt each time she threw it. She throws the dagger again and again, hitting near her mark every time. It’s not as consistent as when she uses a bow and arrow, but it’s still impressive. 

He watches her for a few moments, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway with a proud little smile. Tally’s focus and concentration, paired with that calculating look (with only one of her eyes, no less) made something warm and joyful rise up in him. She’s such a masterful fighter. A masterful  _protector_ , even if that aspect of her makes him nervous for her safety.

“You are really getting good with that,” he says, interrupting her when she pauses to rest her shoulder. Tally glances over at him and grins.

“Mm, that’s just _one_ of the things I’m good at. Hey there, handsome,” she teases, crossing the room before putting her hands at his hips and smirking up at him. Jasttor snorts and glances away, rubbing his neck. She recognizes it as his way of blushing and her grin widens before she leans up to try and kiss him.

Jasttor realizes a couple of things: one, that there is nobody around at the moment, and two, that this would be a great moment to try and play with the idea of teasing Tally the way she liked to do to him.

So instead of meeting her halfway, he puts a single finger to her lips and tilts his head, scrutinizing her confused expression.

“Wait, I… I want to try something,” he explains (with a bit of a nervous cant to his voice), which doesn’t do much to clear her confusion. He makes up his mind with a determined expression, takes her by the shoulders, and steers her backwards so she’s at the nearest wall where he has control.

She gives him a questioning look when he stares down at her like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle, but he shakes his head slightly. “Just… let me, please?” he asks, and though he doesn’t specify, she understands and gives him a soft look.

“Hmm, all right,” she relents, loosening her arms so her hands are simply resting near his waist, but not moving otherwise. He shoves back his self-consciousness as best he can, running his hands along the sides of her arms before moving in.

Jasttor hears her near-inaudible intake of breath as he leans down, but instead of running his tongue at the seam of her lips–as he usually does to kiss her his way–he catches her bottom lip between his teeth, just barely grazing over them. Tally chases his mouth with hers when he backs away, eager for more. He chuckles at her look of betrayal, his crooked smile rivaling the smirk she usually gives when teasing him. He likes this feeling; it gives him confidence, makes him feel like he can really make her feel as amazing as she does to him.

Tally seems surprised for a moment before the look melts into one of realization and eagerness, and relaxes against him as if accepting the challenge. He hums approvingly, reaching up with his hand to tuck her flyaway hair behind an ear. Using the back of his hand, barely making contact with her skin, he runs it along her cheek, to her jaw and down the side of her neck. Tally sighs in response, the sound turning tight when he grazes his claws gently across her throat and down to her collarbone.

It’s like a flip switching after that, and she goes from relaxed to alert in the span of seconds. Jasttor resists the urge to grin in triumph at this small victory, instead concentrating on making the moment last. He dips his head towards her neck, letting his breath just barely puff over her freckly skin–mirroring what she did to him that first day she came to the guild. She makes a tiny sound of anticipation, but he doesn’t give her anything more. He can see the goosebumps forming across her skin as his breath fans over her.

Tally hums as her hand comes to the underside of his chin to bring him back up from her neck, looking as though she wants to kiss him but only barely brushing her lips against him–like there’s an unspoken barrier there. They just look at each other for a few moments, eyes sharp and focused, eager for more but unwilling to give in to the other.

He’s aware of every part of his body touching hers. The pads of all his fingers brushing the hair at the back of her neck, thumb just behind her ear, the edge of her hipbone pressing into the front of his thigh, her calf brushing his. Even the slightest hint of pressure or warmth feels like everything when the both of them are in this stalemate, inching closer but neither making the first move.

Tally’s face is flushed and hot enough that he can feel it without even touching it at this distance. He inches just a little closer, his jaw parting slightly. Without thinking about it, Jasttor closes his eyes and matches the pattern if his breathing to hers, but opposite–breathing in on her exhale, inhaling when her breath washes over him. Somehow, the closeness, sharing breath with her feels so _natural_ ; her breath is warm and sweet-smelling where his is like ozone. He opens his eyes to see her looking up at him with a hazy expression; she licks her lips before glancing down subconsciously and back up again.

Jasttor wants to kiss her so _badly_ but he needs to wait. He needs to let her move first, let her feel this anticipation that’s been gently killing him with every little tease and touch she gives him. He wants her to know what it does to him, he wants her to feel that moment of _surrender_ to him.

He brings his hand to her face, brushing the backs of his fingers over her cheek again. She closes her eyes for a moment in what looks like a sleepy, long blink when he brings the pad of his thumb to her lower lip. He watches as they part just enough to see the edges of her teeth and the pink of her tongue, and his mouth waters. 

And then she encircles his wrist with her fingers and moves his hand upwards, pressing a lingering kiss to the center of his palm. He feels the soft warmth, watches her look up at him tenderly, and feels his heart stutter. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it’s entirely disarming. Just _one_ small thing, and he feels his resolve crumble.

He loves her. He _loves_ her.

“Jasttor.” Tally’s hoarse whisper pierces the relative silence broken only by their breathing. “Kiss me?”

Well. Maybe it’s not Tally _technically_ making the first move, but he can’t really deny her at this point. Maybe she’ll never surrender to him, but Jasttor thinks he’s all right with that.

He cups her face in both of his hands, leans in, and kisses her thoroughly.


End file.
